Wineries, Wives, And Winter
by LornaWinters
Summary: What's the cure for the winter blues? Wine or a warm, sunny beach? Senator Vreenak is determined to solve this quandary. His experiment is interrupted when an unexpected blizzard hits the region.


**Well, it's winter again here in the frozen Midwest... For those of you who don't already know, I absolutely HATE winter! Due to the dangerous wind chills, I've been couped up off and on (mostly on) since the week before Christmas. The natural result: cabin fever! (Aaahh!) So how do I deal with it until I pick up and move to warmer climes? Why, write about it of course! Hence, this story.**

**This is a spinoff/prequel to Jamille Shane and BewilderedFemale's story, "Chasing Waves," and Thyme2read and BewilderedFemale's "Pardek's Second Course." Usually, I'd take Centurion Bochra over Vreenak (*wink* like y'all don't already know that), but today I felt like playing in this universe.**

* * *

It was a crisp winter morning in the Romulan Imperial City. Janette sat at the breakfast table, sipping her coffee and nibbling on almond anise cookies. She glanced out the window at the falling snow, and for the third time sighed.

Vreenak looked up from his breakfast. "What's wrong? You've been sighing all morning."

"You know what's wrong. All of that awful snow. I'm sick to death of it."

"My dear, we just spent a week at the beach and the colonial ruins. Didn't you have a good time?" As he knew she would elaborate on the subject, he stuffed a cookie into his mouth.

"I did enjoy it. It's just...oh, can't you transfer to somewhere warmer and sunnier?"

He almost choked. This was a first. Was she actually serious? He forced the lump down his throat. "My constituency is here. Romulans don't place much value in telecommuting. We prefer our public servants to stay local. I'm afraid even a man of my distinction can't change a thousand years of tradition."

She refilled their coffee, but said nothing further.

Now it was Vreenak's turn to sigh. "The next holiday, I'll take you back to the beach. And every holiday after that, if necessary."

Janette's face brightened, but then she frowned again. Vreenak knew exactly why. The next civil holiday wasn't for another three months—the spring festival. In the meantime, she would be couped up indoors, "ready to climb the walls," as she put it. While he was aware of this fact, he didn't understand it at all.

Their grown son, Brenak, was the same way. What was this fixation with the seashore and endless sunshine? Surely, this climate wasn't dissimilar to some of Earth's regions? A few humans of his acquaintance even informed him that they quite enjoyed winter and snow. Vreenak himself could take or leave whatever weather he encountered. It simply wasn't something that affected him.

Once again, it was time to compromise. "Ah, I forgot to tell you. One of Senator Pardek's friends from Earth started a winery a few months ago. It's about time they cleared the caves of those Unification miscreants," he added, half to himself. But he was digressing.

"The first concoction is ready, and they've planned a party for the first tasting this weekend. Does that tempt you?"

"It sounds interesting."

"Yes, it _is_ interesting," he reiterated, "I'll accept the invitation this afternoon."

"I would like that," she answered, rising to clear the table. She wasn't leaping for joy, but at least she had stopped sighing.

Vreenak got up and went to get dressed for work. Since the Senate wasn't convening that day, he would have a little time later that afternoon to make further plans. He was bound and determined to show his wife that there were endless places to see and visit besides the dratted, overrated beach!

* * *

As soon as she finished the dishes, Janette sat down at her desk, and sent a message. After a few seconds, the face of her friend Bea appeared on the screen. Bea had moved to the sunny Apnex region several years previously with her husband, Letant, who was assigned to represent that area.

"_Winter blahs again?"_ she asked.

Janette nodded. "I'm going crazy! Vreenak tries, but he just doesn't get it. Snow and darkness don't bother him at all."

"_They don't bother me, either."_

"Yeah, well you don't live up here."

"_I used to,"_ Bea pointed out, _"before Letant started campaigning down here. Really, I could go either way. They key is to stay occupied—and I don't mean pouring over those ancient texts. You need to get out. When is your next expedition?"_

"Not until summer. But Vreenak said he's take me to some Earth winery established by one of Pardek's friends on Saturday."

"_An Earth winery? It's been forever since I've had wine from back home. Romulus is getting everything these days."_

"You want to come, too?"

"_Why not? The Romulans down here are so laid back that Letant hardly has any trouble getting them to vote for him. So he has plenty of time on his hands. The Senate's gathering tomorrow, right? I'll just come up with him then, and we'll make a weekend of it."_

Janette clapped her hands. "Wonderful!" Maybe winter wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

On the way into the office, Vreenak bumped into Rekar. How embarrassingly undignified! But since he was vice-chairman of the Tal Shiar, he waited for Rekar to apologize first. After a slight hesitation, he did.

"Not to worry, Commander," said Vreenak with a wave of his hand, "I was looking for you anyway."

"Why?"

"Mr. Charles Dymus—one of Pardek's human friends, you know—is hosting a wine tasting this weekend. You'll attend, and bring your wife along."

Rekar blinked. "There was that matter you wanted me to investigate-"

"Never mind that. Give it to Jasper. You're off this weekend. And don't forget your wife."

"Yes, Senator," he grumbled.

Vreenak didn't care. Rekar would grumble, but would do as he was told. When he walked into his office, Janette was already on the line waiting to speak with him.

"_Oh, dearest, can we invite Rosetta, and Bea, and Jamille to the wine tasting?"_ she exclaimed.

He shrugged. "Of course. We can do whatever you wish, my wife."

"_I know you were probably planning a romantic outing for two, but there will be lots of people there anyway."_

Exactly what he was thinking. The romantic outing was going to be the following weekend, but she didn't need to know that just yet.

"_It's been months since I've seen any of my friends, and oh, dearest, do you mind very much?"_

He smirked, "I'll forgive you this one time."

Not long after they said their tender goodbyes, he had a visitor.

"Ah, Centurion Bochra. I've been expecting you."

"You have?"

Not really, but he relished playing these little mind games—especially with Bochra. He stared at Janette far too much for Vreenak's liking, and she was far too polite in return. It was a good thing Vreenak had met her first, otherwise the dashing young centurion might have swept her off her feet. The experienced senator had learned long ago that revenge could take many forms.

"You may inform Pardek that my wife and I will attend his friend's party. We will bring six additional guests." It seemed like hours since he had eaten breakfast. He reached for the baloney sandwich he kept in his drawer.

"Very well. But that's not why I'm here."

"Of course not, but I wanted to get the important matters settled first. Oh yes, and be certain to remind Pardek that my wife consumes only plants and their by-products. She has to keep up with Romulan longevity, you know." And he had to admit, it was far more effective than wrinkle cream.

"I know that," his mouth tightened ever so slightly, "Senator."

Vreenak stopped himself in mid-bite. "How do you know that?"

Bochra shifted. "You remind me at every opportunity."

A likely excuse! It was clear he would get no more out of the underling at that time, though. He filed that little nugget away for a future investigation. "Fine. Now get out."

The centurion paused, then decided that what he had to say could wait. He left without an explanation.

Vreenak shoved his sandwich into his mouth, swallowing it whole.

* * *

The snow was falling harder by that evening. Rekar dredged through the calf-high drifts, but his mind was elsewhere. What was he going to tell Jamille? Hopefully, she didn't already have plans. But what if she did? Given that his job was quite possibly on the line, she would have to cancel them. She wouldn't like that at all.

They had argued about the subject before, and each time Jamille brought up the matter of him searching for more gainful and fulfilling employment. Perhaps she was right. But Rekar didn't care one way or another. A job was a job. This one was beginning to wreak havoc on his home life, however.

He at last decided to start searching for a new position the next workday. As he pushed open the door, he caught sight of his Jamille in all her domestic glory. She was in the process of pulling a pan of cornbread out of the oven, and all the while humming to herself. The sweet aroma filled his nose, and the warmth of his home melted his heart—not that he would admit that to anyone but her, of course.

"My husband," she greeted him sweetly, "Take your shoes off before you come in. Don't track in that dirty snow."

He obeyed the command, and made his way into the dining room.

She set the hot pan onto a trivet in the middle of the table. "I hope you don't have work this weekend."

Inwardly, he groaned. "Well, not exactly."

Jamille put her hands on her hips. "Guess I'll have to cheer Jan up all by myself. Fine." She moved to go back to the kitchen, but he stopped her.

"Actually, that _was_ what I was planning," he rejoiced, lifting her by the waist.

"Well you're in a good mood."

"I'm happy to please you, my empress."

Jamille laughed at the term of endearment, but otherwise pretended to be unaffected. Rekar lowered her back to the floor, then pulled her into a tender kiss, relieved that they weren't going to argue about his work hours again.

* * *

That weekend, dozens of guests gathered inside the refurbished caves beneath Krocton for Charles' party. Despite predictions of plunging temperatures and record snowfall for that night, everyone turned up anyway. Romulans, after all, weren't afraid of anything, least of all the weather. It was merely an embellishment, they decided, conjured up by meteorologists, both to justify their salaries and drum up the viewership in the process. Nothing to be taken seriously.

Vreenak and his colleagues couldn't have agreed more. His entourage arrived decked to the nines. The assembly as it happened, was being held in a plebeian-dominated segment, and they had a public image to maintain.

Janette shivered, but took the hand Vreenak offered her as she stepped out of the hover car into the now knee-high drift.

"I'm terribly sorry, my dear. I was assured the walkway would be cleared by the time we arrived. But we all know the kind of work ethic they hold to in this part of town." He glared at Bochra, who was scooping snow nearby.

The centurion threw his shovel on the ground in frustration, ready to get up in Vreenak's face for the insult. But when he saw Janette standing there with her teeth chattering, his expression softened. "Forgive me, Lady Janette. Our sector has already consumed the alloted snow removal resources for this month. And the ice clearers won't be routed here until they're finished downtown. We have to resort to clearing the streets and sidewalks by hand."

Janette nodded, and pulled her coat closer around her neck. "Thank you for your efforts, Centurion," she said kindly. Bochra smiled in appreciation, bowed, then returned to his task.

Vreenak seethed. Something had to be done! Janette meanwhile had put on a brave face, and was trying to push through the rising snowbank. He gallantly scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder.

"This beneath you. But not to worry, fair lady, your husband will rescue you from this vexatious circumstance." He pressed through the snow toward the entrance, letting on that it was hardly an effort for a Romulan. Janette had never been a large woman, but it proved to be a more difficult task than it looked. In truth, he wasn't as spry as he was when he was eighty.

When they finally made it inside, they found the others were waiting for them. Vreenak put his wife back on her feet.

"I see some people are on a second honeymoon," observed Rosetta.

"We never left from our honeymoon," boasted her husband, the vice-proconsul, "Not even while the kids were still in the nest."

"Bea's pregnant again," Letant announced.

"Shh! We agreed not to say anything until we told mom and dad!"

"Can I help it if I'm a proud father?"

Jamille rolled her eyes. "Will y'all cut out the mush already?"

Janette giggled with Rosetta and Bea, blushing girlishly.

_That's more like it_, thought Vreenak, pulling his tunic strait. He watched her flit off with her friends, then joined his own. They were deep in plotting the demise of their respective competitors when they heard a deep, jovial laugh behind them.

Pardek stood there, holding a huge tray. "Good evening, senators. May I offer you some refreshments?"

They helped themselves to the smörgåsbord and thanked him. Mr. Dymus soon began to hand out the first samples. The selection was more extensive than Vreenak expected. In addition to the house red, there was pinot noir, chianti, and merlot. The parade of whites included savignon blanc, chardonnay, and pinot grigio. Not anything to crow about, judging from the scant information he had gleaned from listening to Janette's conversations, but still more than he had first anticipated.

But Charles Dymus' pride and joy, it was said, was a rose port, which he had been perfecting for many years, despite the variety's lack of critical acclaim. He was determined to prove all of those snobby wine critics wrong by producing the best rose port to ever pass over a being's tongue. Rose port would one day hold an equal place with ruby port, he insisted.

The guests began to buzz with excitement, and soon everyone had their own portion of the sought after liquid. All except Vreenak, that was. Anytime a crowd went one way, it was usually wise to move in the opposite direction. Besides, he wasn't one for sweet wines. Anything worth learning about the inferior Earth beverage would come from Janette. He made an excuse of nature, then returned when the sample had been consumed.

Only Letant had seen his deceit. "It's absolutely indecent of you not try the port. Humans take offense at these sort of things, you know."

"They'll live," he mumbled back. "There are certain vile things that will never cross my palate. It's the principle of the thing."

Letant shook his head. Just then, their portly friend returned.

"How go things in the Segment?" Vreenak asked, out of politeness.

Pardek shrugged. "Oh, in about the usual way for the past ninety years or so. Except for all this snow, of course. Not to mention these dangerous wind chills. We've opened warming shelters for tonight. And the soup woman-"

Vreenak waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, yes. We've all heard the plight of the forgotten Romulan from Krocton."

Letant, on the other hand, stopped swirling the wine in his glass. "Do you actually think it's that serious?"

As if to answer is question, the door opened, and Bochra blew in with the arctic blast. He shook off the icicles that had formed all over his body, sending them flying through the room. The temperature inside the cave dropped noticeably, and the environmental controls kicked on.

Pardek rushed over with a blanket. "Bochra? I didn't know you were still outside."

He stoically pushed the cloth aside. "I only came in to warm up for a moment. Then I'll go back out and finish."

The portly senator took a gander outside. "But the snow is coming down too fast to make any more progress tonight. Stay inside for now. You can finish in the morning."

* * *

Pardek, representative of the Krocton Segment, was worried. The only people who remembered weather like this were the elders. "This is going to be a bad storm," they warned him. It sure looked like they were right. Already, the snow had drifted halfway up the side of the outside walls of the cave.

His thoughts were interrupted by an odd noise. He looked around. It was coming from behind a stack of the next year's vintage. Narrowing his eyes in bewilderment, he waddled over to investigate. What he expected was to find some animal that had wandered in to escape the frigid night. But to his surprise, he discovered it was none other than young D'Tan.

"What are you doing here? You're too young for wine, even if it's only from Earth."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pardek!" He fumbled with his jacket, "I was playing nearby, and then everyone went into the caves. Since people haven't gathered these caves since...you know," he wore his most innocent expression.

"No need to bring that up, young man. Please continue." He preferred not to dwell on his fallout with Spock.

"Well, it started getting real cold," he waved his hands around, as though they would emphasize his story, "so I thought it would be okay. Centurion Bochra didn't tell me I couldn't."

"Did you ask him?"

D'Tan shifted again, scraping the ground with his foot. "No. He was busy, and I didn't want to bother him."

Pardek frowned. He could hardly blame the boy. It wasn't fit for Romulan or beast out there. The thought of venturing out in that mess sent shivers down his own spine. Nevertheless, he knew D'Tan wasn't telling him everything. He would have to take the matter up with his parents later.

"Oh, very well. But don't drink anything. I'll not be responsible for you." He shook his finger in warning.

"I won't!" With that, he ran off to join the party before Pardek could say anything else.

"Young whippersnappers," he grumbled, "Can't tell them anything these days."

"D'Tan!" he heard Lady Bea exclaim from the main cavern, "Why don't you come and sit by me, sweetheart? You can have some of my hot chocolate."

Pardek felt relieved. Bea would look after him and make sure he didn't put his nose into any cups he shouldn't.

Bochra, who had by that time thawed out, joined him. "I'm sorry, Pardek. I honestly didn't see the boy."

"He's a little sneak. No wonder his parents can't keep up with him. It wasn't your fault." He was feeling gracious that evening, so he let it go at that. He didn't voice his suspicion that the chivalrous centurion might have perhaps been too occupied with other sights to notice D'Tan slip past him.

He chuckled, "I was young once myself," and deliberately didn't specify to whom he was referring.

Bochra assumed he meant D'Tan, and Pardek didn't correct him. He looked over at the crowd of guests. "You don't suppose they would be offended if I helped myself to that wine? I'm rather curious."

"Of course not. It'll warm you up in no time. And if anyone complains, tell them to talk to me. I always support the military, you know."

"Thanks." He began to head to the nearest cask.

"Oh, and Bochra. You stay out of trouble, too," he added with a wink.

The soldier pursed his lips together and nodded. Pardek supposed he didn't really have to warn him like he did D'Tan. Bochra was a grown Romulan who could take care of himself. But that was what Pardek was worried about. With the wine flowing as freely as the snow was falling, there was no telling what could happen if people weren't careful.

* * *

A little after midnight, it was time for everyone to bid their fond farewells and return home. Most of the guests had belittled the potency of human wine, and as a result were staggering to the exit.

All except Vreenak, that was. Since the liquid was for the most part vile and beneath him, he had consumed little of it. The evening had been quite the show, and he had learned many, many things his relaxed acquaintances would have never mentioned under the usual circumstances. And he filed each and every nugget away for future use. The best part was, most of them would never know how he made his discoveries. Romulan pride would save him from those who had better memories.

For a moment, he had almost forgotten he was at a party and not on the job. But, only for a moment. He chuckled softly, patting himself on the back for another successful venture.

"Thank you all for coming, folks," said Charles. "The next batch will be ready in a few months, so do come back then."

When the door was opened, everyone braced themselves for the arctic blast. But it never came. They opened their eyes to see the doorway completely blocked by a fluffy white wall.

"Oh no!" D'Tan whined, "We're snowbound. It could be weeks before rescuers get to us. This is the Krocton Segment we're talking about, people. Nobody cares what happens to us here on this side of town except Pardek. We'll run out of food and starve to death!"

"Unless..." M'Ret uttered, rubbed his hands together with a macabre smirk. His remark earned him a punch in the stomach from his wife.

"You're not suggesting we _eat_ each other?" D'Tan gawked.

The other guests stopped chattering. All at once, the cave was silent as the grave. Considering the copious amounts of alcohol they had consumed, it should not have come as a surprise to a more sober observer that the boy's concerns would seem to them like a very real scenario. Oh, Vreenak would remember this night for a very long time.

Pardek, ever the politician, saved the day. "My, that young lad will say anything, and he hasn't had a drop." Everyone paused to process the words spoken. Then they all laughed, trying not to sound as though they might have taken M'Ret's buffoonery seriously.

Following his friend's lead, Charles added with a wink, "Speaking of drops, there's still plenty of this fine grape juice left. Can't let it go to waste, can we?" He merrily popped opened some more casks.

"Help is already on the way," Pardek assured everyone. "We might as well enjoy ourselves while we wait."

"There are benefits to being snowbound," Letant agreed, helping himself to the first glass from a newly opened cask.

Janette meanwhile filled two small glasses of port, and brought them over to Vreenak. She handed him one of the glasses, batting her pretty eyelashes. There was no getting out of it at this point. On the positive side, when given enough alcohol, Janette often forgot her woes and became quite agreeable. Apply the right number of complements, and she would do anything.

"Well? Port and chocolate? What do you think?"

He inhaled the fruity aroma of the port, then tossed a piece of chocolate into his mouth. Throwing all caution to the wind, he took a sip. To his surprise, it wasn't half bad. Sweet wines were usually not to his liking, yet there was something exceptional about this one. Evidence of Dymus' hard work, no doubt. More research would be necessary before he formed his opinion, however.

He then realized that Janette was waiting for an answer. Her cheeks were flushed with that fetching hue of pink, and her eyes sparkled, despite the low lighting. She really was a lovely lady. After all, she was worthy to be his wife, and that was high praise coming from him.

"It doesn't measure up to kali-fal," he answered. "But then again, one can't complain while in an emergency situation."

Janette stroked his shoulder. "You're such a teaser," she said with an adoring giggle. "You always know how to make me laugh with your rapier wit."

"All in a day's work," he replied smoothly.

It was true they were snowbound. Yet despite that less than desirable inevitability staring at them in the face, he had succeeded in making his wife forget all about winter. Even better, she had forgotten about Bochra, and was instead fawning over him like a lovesick schoolgirl.

He shot back the remainder of the contents in his glass with considerable satisfaction. In the words of the famous (or perhaps infamous—he hadn't yet made up his mind about that one) Earth songwriter, _let it snow!_

* * *

**So...who thinks they were actually rescued? ;-) Thanks for reading!**


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